


I'm a Fake

by edy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ephebophilia, Homophobic Language, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsession, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bert McCracken is a liar, and Gerard Way is a boy caught up in his schemes. Gerard's friends warn him about the dangers the stranger poses, but the poor boy is already head over heels in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration: "i'm a fake" by the used
> 
> -
> 
> yes, this is one of the many fics where bert is the Villain. because why not?
> 
> i'll update when i'm able. please be patient.

"Get your joints right here! Two dollars per rolled joint! I'll sell you a small bag to roll your own for a dollar!" Billie Joe yells across the school parking lot. He flashes a couple bags and a cigarette packet full of pre-made joints for proof.

Gerard stands next to him, shuffling his feet around the badly cemented lot. He raises his head and watches Billie go through his customers like lightning. Gerard curls his fingers against the paper exterior of his lukewarm coffee Billie and he had bought on the way to school. He takes a drink and looks back down at his feet. He notices his friend's skateboard on the ground beside him.

Gerard narrows his eyes at a drop of rain landing on the board, making the dirt on the white surface spread out and turn to mud.

Gerard begins to wonder if he should pick up the piece of wood, so it wouldn't get wet.

He shakes his head and takes a sip of caffeine.

The small crowd dispatches when the bell inside the school goes off. Billie stuffs a wad of cash in his back pocket. "How much money did you make, Billie Joe?" Gerard asks, stepping toward him, but not without kicking the skateboard over.

Billie Joe Armstrong drops down to the ground, picking up the board and putting it under his arm. "Forty bucks." He laughs, showing off his messed-up, off-white teeth. He starts toward the high school. Gerard follows, the rain starting to come down more. "Gerard," Billie starts, holding the door open for him. "Have you talked to Frank any?" He leans up against the door.

Gerard Way slips past him. "Yes. I always talk to him."

Billie smirks, but doesn't say anything. They continue down the school hallways, going toward their lockers. Gerard weaves past two jocks in front of his locker and grabs his textbook for Spanish. He chews on his lip, closing the door on the hunk of old metal, and then makes his way to Billie's locker near the end of the hallway.

He stops, one hand holding the gas-station coffee, the other holding a too-heavy book for his first period. "Come on," he urges, as he brings the cup to his mouth. "Frank might be in the Spanish classroom."

"Hold on a second!" Billie says, trying to shove his skateboard into his locker. It's narrow, so it shouldn't be able to fit, but Billie has made it work before.

Gerard laughs, watching Billie raise a thin leg to kick the contents inside. After a few short moments, Billie is successful and grabs his textbook and lightly pushes Gerard. "Let's go."

*

There is no evidence that it had even rained when the final bell rings at three fifteen. Gerard is glad that Billie is in his last class—history. He isn't very good at that subject, and Billie tends to wonder off after school. Gerard recalls the time when Billie ended up in a part of the town neither of them knew when he was only thirteen.

Gerard is shoved to the side, almost falling on the concrete under him. He grabs onto the fence beside him, silently glad his backpack isn't full of homework to throw him off balance. He raises his head and glares at Billie, no doubt the one who had pushed him. "Hey. Why'd you do that?" Gerard straightens up, dusting himself off. He winces, palms stinging. He drops his gaze to his hands and slowly uncurls his fingers, letting the hidden flesh show.

There are pink scratches in the place of the lines on his right palm. His life line is bleeding. He flicks out his tongue and laps up the blood.

Billie Joe sighs and puts his foot to the ground, forcing his skateboard to come to a stop. "You were all out there." He turns his head to look at Gerard. "What's on your mind?"

Gerard turns to Billie, tasting iron on his tongue. "Frank." He has to squint his eyes to see Billie through the bright shine coming from the sun. "I'm just worried about him."

Billie runs a hand through his hair. Gerard notes that it is a dull red when light is reflecting off it. "He's probably just sick."

"He usually talks to us when he's sick, though."

"Not when he's throwing up." Billie puts his Chuck Taylor-clad foot on the sidewalk. He kicks off, starting down the concrete, putting the foot behind the other on the board. Billie stretches his arm out for Gerard to hold his hand, so he could pull Billie to safety in case his skateboard went haywire.

Gerard tightly grabs onto his arm, wrapping his fingers around the cloth of his sweat jacket. "He still talks to me whenever he's vomiting," he says, going back to their previous conversation.

His hand slides down to hold onto Billie's wrist. Billie swings their arms like a couple of children instead of the sophomores they are.

Billie opens his mouth to reply, but he ends up sighing, shaking his head. "We can call him tonight, see what's up." Gerard watches him bite at his bottom lip. Billie raises his head to look up at the sky, but Gerard's still transfixed on his mouth. "Look! A rainbow!" Billie's free arm goes up in the air at an angle to point at the colorful spectrum across the pale blue sky.

Gerard looks up at it. He smiles.

Frank loves rainbows.

Gerard? Not so much.


	2. Chapter 2

No one knows the real Bert McCracken.

Hell, not even Bert himself.

He's lied about everything concerning himself to everyone he meets—his name, age, birthday, school, work, appearance, past memories, sexual orientation, gender, relationships, family, favorite foods, everything.

You name it, he's lied about it.

Bert thinks "The Real Bert McCracken" is around the age of twenty-six, but he can't be sure. He doesn't really remember his birth month that well, but he always gets a weird feeling around the end of February, so he guesses it's around there.

He thinks "The Real Bert McCracken" attended an art school, judging by the many paintings and art supplies he has around his apartment. Bert doesn't remember enrolling into art school. He thinks he remembers going into college, but after many hours of searching through his apartment, he had found not a trace of him actually going to college nor an art school.

Bert had sat around for a while, just thinking about what he had really done in his life, and then shortly after, he was on his bed, in front of his laptop, having cybersex with a thirty-year-old man who hadn't known too much about sex.

Of course, Bert is on his laptop right now. His laptop is his life. He doesn't know what he'll do without it.

If he felt sad or scared, he would make up a sob story, and then get shown a guy's dick.

If he felt pissed, he would get in a chat room and immediately find someone to roleplay some angry sex.

Currently, Bert is content, and he really isn't getting anything from the boy he is cybering with on Omegle—a website where you can be randomly paired up with anyone in the world to talk.

Bert likes using this website because he meets all kinds of people he can have fun with.

He's with a seventeen-year-old male from California right now. Bert is a twenty-two-year-old female with a _D_ cup.

And to be honest, he just wants to exit out of the chat room. He isn't getting any action in his pants right now, but he knows he shouldn't leave the boy hanging.

His hand flies to the mouse, and he disconnects with a sigh. "He was inexperienced anyway," he mumbles to himself, as he rolls around on the bed to grab his packet of cigarettes.

"The Real Bert McCracken" isn't a virgin in any of the fields of sex.

Well, that's what Bert thinks. And what he thinks usually comes true.

Sometimes.

He lights up his cigarette and connects to another chat room. He waits for a couple seconds before a message pops up on the screen.

He reads it with squinted eyes. "Male, twenty-five, bi-curious. Wanna convert me?"

The cigarette hangs off Bert's bottom lip as his left hand creeps to his hips, unbuttoning his jeans. He quickly types out a message.

"Male, twenty, gay. I'll take good care of you, honey."

*

It sometimes scares Gerard how Billie knows the layout of his house better than he does, but it's only expected because Billie does seem to come over to his house a lot.

Once they both are in his room, Gerard closes the door behind him and turns around to see Billie already making himself at home. His shoes, backpack, and skateboard are on the floor; his sweat jacket hanging off the bed, almost falling to the floor. His arms are wrapped around Gerard's pillow. His eyes widen when he notices Gerard in the room. "Dude, call Frank."

Gerard stands in the middle of his room, slowly nodding. "Okay." He glances around, checking to see if he had left the house phone in here from the last time he called the absent friend. He finds it lying on the floor by his bedside table. He dives to the ground and grabs it, dialing Frank's number and holding the device to his ear.

He feels something soft hit the back of his head. He narrows his eyes and raises his head, glaring at Billie, who had hit him with the pillow in his hands. "What?" he mouths, and then goes on to wave the phone in Billie's face to show he can't talk right now. He shoots Billie a glare once more before putting the phone back to his ear and waiting for the other to pick up.

"Have you had sex yet?" Billie asks Gerard, despite him not being able to reply.

Gerard hears the dialing cease and a "hello" from the other end. Frank Iero's voice is soft, lazy, and it sounds like he's sick. Gerard frowns at this. "Hey, Frank. How's it going?"

The pillow comes in contact with the back of Gerard's head again, and he swears this time, taking the cushion and lying on top of it. He turns his head to glare at Billie.

"I've been sick," Frank says.

Gerard can hear him cough, and he scrunches his nose. "I can tell. What's wrong?" Billie groans from the bed.

"I just think I have a really bad cold. Mum told me to stay in bed today, get some rest. Did I miss anything at school?"

Gerard sticks his thumb in his mouth. "Not really." He hears Billie start complaining about something, and Gerard tries his hardest to ignore him, but he can't help but to let out a scream when Billie rolls off the bed and on top of him.

"What's wrong?!" Frank asks, his voice cracking near the end of his sentence due to his illness.

Gerard groans. "Billie rolled on top of me."

Billie Joe smiles while Frank coughs and hysterically giggles.

*

Gerard is extremely hot that night. His black hair is stuck to his neck and forehead, and he's completely unclothed. And yet, he's still hot and feels very uncomfortable. He pushes all the hair off his face and fixes his laptop screen.

He can't believe he's actually considering this. He's never…

Well, he thinks this might help his heat.

Maybe.

He gazes at his laptop screen, clicking on the video option on Omegle. He nervously chews on his thumbnail, heart beating in his chest. He leans up against the cool wall of his bedroom, fixing his position on his bed. He can see his thighs shaking from nerves, and he reaches out, grabbing onto the muscles. His hands start to shake against his legs as his fingers turn into claws and rake against the pale skin, leaving long pink scratches. He finds himself closing his eyes and parting his lips. And right when he's about to release an audible moan, he hears laughter come from his computer, quickly followed by someone saying, "You put on quite a show, boy."

Gerard's eyes open, and he looks at his laptop screen. The person on the screen has long greasy, black hair that hangs at their shoulders. Their eyes are a piercing blue color, and they have stubble full of short dark hairs.

Gerard stares at them with a tilted head. "Excuse me?"

They laugh. "You're cute. Too bad you moved the screen, so I can't see your glory." They grin a creepy grin, and Gerard's hands fly in between his legs, even though they said they couldn't see down there.

"No, um, you can't." Gerard bites his lip. "You look well over eighteen, and that would be classified as child pornography."

They continue to laugh. "Chill. I'm seventeen. Now"—Gerard watches them lean back against the headboard to their bed—"you must have a reason to being here. What is it?"

Gerard starts shaking again. He pushes his hair off his face. "I got hot… and… I'm just curious."

"About?"

Gerard lets out a sigh and rolls his head around on his neck. "Everything."

The seemingly seventeen year old smiles, and Gerard finds an odd sense of comfort in it.


	3. Chapter 3

The cool, bitter September air cuts into Gerard's cheeks as Billie, Frank, and he walk along the sidewalk Friday after school. They are heading toward the small diner just down the road from the high school.

Gerard tightens the black-and-gray scarf around his neck. "I hope it's not cold in there."

Gerard hears a sigh from behind him, and his short friend jumps out to walk beside him. "It's always cold in there," Frank remarks. He hooks his arm with Gerard's.

Gerard nods in agreement and frowns, glancing behind him at Billie, who has his head down low, chewing on the inside of his cheek and kicking little rocks that he finds in his path. Gerard studies him before turning back to Frank. He pulls him closer to his side. "How are you feeling?"

Frank shrugs. "Good. My nose is still stuffy, but I'm managing." He bites his lip and turns his head to look back Billie following them. "Is Ollie going to pick us up at four?" he asks.

Gerard is surprised he can hear the Billie's voice over the wind. "Yeah, she's gonna drop you guys off at Gee's."

The scratches on Gerard's thighs are burning from being rubbed raw by the fabric of his skinny jeans all day. He wants to rip them off, but he has to have better self-control. He'll put some medicine on the scratches when he gets home.

He absent-mindedly holds the door of the diner open for all of them, and he can faintly feel Billie grab his hand as he pulls him to their usual booth while Frank orders their usual meal.

Gerard bounces against the red cushioned seat as he sits down across from Billie. Everything seems to come back to Gerard right when he hears Billie ask, "Are you okay?" He raises his head, blinking, staring at Billie.

His friend stares at him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?" he repeats.

Gerard nods. "Yeah. I just… tried to block out some pain." He presses his lips together. "My thighs hurt."

Billie chuckles. "That's what you get for riding too many guys."

Gerard pulls a straw out the dispenser at the end of the table and tears off the top of the paper covering. He puts the straw to his mouth and blows the rest of the paper on the straw at Billie. "Shut the hell up."

They both laugh, and Frank comes back to their table, setting down the small red basket full of fries. He slips into the spot beside Gerard, and almost instantly, he lays his hand on Gerard's thigh, right where the wounds burn.

Gerard tries to ignore the pain again. He grabs a fry and nibbles on it, tasting the salt on his tongue.

Gerard turns his head to glance around the diner while Billie Joe and Frank talk about random things that doesn't really stick in Gerard's head. His eyes scan across other faces in the diner, catching glimpses of their conversations before they disappear. He slowly rotates his head around on his neck to look up at the small silver bell atop the wall above the door of the diner. He watches it stay still, and then move side to side when the door touches it. He hears the soft _ting_ from the bell, and his hazel eyes travel down to see who had made the object jingle.

Gerard lightly jumps in his seat, almost pissing himself. He puts a hand to his stomach, his fingers curling into the material of his jacket.

Gerard can feel Frank squeeze at his knee, lightly shaking it. "What's wrong?"

Gerard slowly opens his eyes and looks ahead at the man who had entered the diner. "I know that guy."

Gerard is sure of it. He has the same long black hair. It still looks unwashed. He even has the identical piercing, icy eyes. He looks around the diner, just like a murderer would do to find their next victim. Gerard starts to feel a pang of regret in his chest, and he lowers his head. He almost wishes he hasn't shown him how he looks practically naked.

He raises his head once he feels Billie kick him in the shin from across the table. "Gerard, man, what's wrong? What are you talking about?"

Gerard nods toward the man. "I think I know him." He watches the man go down an aisle. Gerard guesses he's trying to find somewhere to sit, and then his head turns around, letting their eyes connect for a split second. Gerard's heart leaps in his chest. The man starts toward their table. Gerard's eyes widen. "He's coming, guys," he says, lowering his head.

Frank rubs at his thigh in comfort, and Billie says, "I'll take care of this."

The man steps up to their table, and Gerard tries to act busy. He grabs the salt shaker and gussies up their fries.

"Can I sit here?" he asks. His voice is scratchy and a bit deep—a lot different from how it was over the computer.

Billie firmly shakes his head. "No. Go take a shower."

Before the man can get in a reply, Gerard raises up, jumps over Frank, and heads into the bathroom. He hears the red metal door close behind him as he races toward a stall. He knocks his knees to the floor, and then proceeds to gag and groan into the toilet bowl.

Gerard honestly doesn't know what had come over him. He doesn't remember feeling sick, but after a few moments of violently dry-retching, he does recall getting nauseous right when the man had stepped into the diner.

Gerard takes a deep breath, pushes his hair out of his eyes, a frown on his face. He glances down at the toilet water, following the impulse to check his own throw up, but to his distaste, there is none. He wrinkles his nose, wondering how he can gag all that time without puking. He sighs to himself, flushes the toilet anyway, and goes over to wash his hands. He had been touching the floor—germs.

His eyes widen when he sees Frank by the sinks, his hands in his jacket pockets. "Are you okay?" he asks, tilting his head.

Gerard slowly nods. "Yeah." He licks his chapped lips. "I'll be okay."

They both stand there, heads lowered, in an awkward silence. Well, at least Gerard's away from that man. He didn't know what he was thinking when he was video chatting with him. He was just really hot and… curious. Yeah, that's it.

Gerard licks his lips again. He really needs chap stick. Oh, and some medicine for his thighs. That almost slipped from his mind. The scratches are starting to burn again. A look of discomfort crosses his face, and then his eyes widen, and he slowly looks down.

Frank is standing in front of him, his body pressed against his, his head on his chest, his arms tight around his slender waist.

Gerard doesn't even question it. He welcomes the hug. He wraps his arms around Frank's shoulders and holds him close, a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard's nose wrinkles from the cream he's smearing over his thighs. He can feel the long pink scratches on the top surface of the skin. The wounds are warm and slightly upraised. He can feel small bumps on those marks. He grimaces as he caps the lid back on the Neosporin. He sets the tube aside, and then goes on to fix the legs on his gray plaid boxers.

When he stands up, he is almost disgusted by the feel of his clothing plastered against his legs. He sighs and sits back down on his bed, pulling the legs of his clothing back up over his thigh muscles. He sighs, throws the thing of infection medicine across the room, and drops his head into his hands.

"Why did you throw that?"

Gerard turns his head, seeing Frank enter his bedroom, dressed in a hoodie and long pajama bottoms. He's holding two red apples in his hands. Gerard shrugs. "I was mad, so I threw something… It was the closest thing to me." He nods toward the food in Frank's hands, and then reaches out his arm, palm outstretched.

Frank steps toward him, handing him the extra apple. "I got that for you anyway." He sits down beside Gerard on the small bed. He bites at the apple, peeling off the flesh. "Why were you mad?"

Gerard almost forgot. He fixes his boxers. "It's not important now," he murmurs, starting to eat.

He's about to turn the apple around to gnaw at the other untouched side, but the other's voice distracts him. "I saw your legs. What happened?"

Gerard sighs and lowers his hand from his mouth, resting it in his lap. "It has something to do with that man in the diner."

Frank looks at him. "What's his name?"

And then, it hits Gerard he doesn't actually know the man's name. He had just found him on Omegle, and he helped him explore his sexuality a bit, but that was all! He hadn't bothered to ask for a name while he was masturbating and fingering himself.

A deep blush attaches to his cheeks.

There is no way to see the man again. Omegle just gives you a random chat with anyone. It'd take forever to even catch a glimpse of the man with blue eyes. He'll never be able to see him again, never be able to ask for his name.

Gerard's cheeks are still burning red when he goes to reply. "I don't know," he mumbles. He keeps his head down, staring at the apple in his hand. He suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore.

He sees Frank's little hand go through his field of vision and take his leftovers. "What happened to your thighs, Gerard?" he asks softly, biting into the apple.

Gerard fixes his position on the bed. He tucks his legs under his body, frowning at how his boxers cling to the medicine. He winces. "I don't want to tell you."

Frank stands up from his bed with a sigh. He starts over to the trash can by the door and drops the two apple cores in it. "Why not?" He moves across the room, toward the bedside table. He flips on the small lamp that should belong on a desk.

Gerard blinks from the sudden light, but his eyes get adjusted after a few moments. The room doesn't look any different. The lamp doesn't give off enough light, but he doesn't mind. He stares at Frank as he sits back down on the bed. It seems like he is waiting for an answer. Gerard stares at him, and then shakes his head, lowering it again to hide the terrible blush on his face. Frank won't like seeing him like this.

"Would writing it down be better for you?" Frank asks, and he scoots closer to Gerard, who glances at him, and then scoots back.

"Maybe," Gerard says, changing his position again. He thinks it's the mattress that's making him uncomfortable. He sits Indian-style while watching Frank look around his room for something to write on and with. Gerard bites his lip and swallows, tasting the flesh on his mouth. "Frank," he mutters.

"Mm."

Gerard takes a deep breath, drops his head once more, and blurts out what had happened with the man at the diner. Frank's response isn't one that Gerard expected. He had thought Frank was going to yell at him for being disgusting or something along those lines, but instead, Frank says, "That's normal."

Gerard's eyes nearly pop out of his head. "Normal?! How is that normal, Frank?"

Frank giggles. "I think you're more embarrassed about the fact you actually did that stuff to yourself, than you performing in front of that guy."

Gerard thinks for a moment before narrowing his eyes. Maybe Frank is right. He props his head up by the arm on his right knee.

His friend continues, "Besides, it's perfectly healthy to explore your body." Frank gets closer to Gerard and touches his arm, the other holding his head up.

Gerard raises his eyes to look at him. "Have you ever fingered yourself, Frank? Don't try to tell me it's normal for a straight guy to do that."

Frank slowly pulls his hand back into his own lap. "I have, but I'm bisexual myself."

Gerard stays still before announcing, "I think I am, too."

They're enveloped in silence for a few minutes. Gerard and Frank end up on their backs on Gerard's bed, looking up at the ceiling, legs stretched out. Gerard can hardly feel his boxers attached to him like a second skin anymore. And then, right when sleep is creeping around the corner, Gerard hears Frank's soft voice tell him, "I'm glad that you're bisexual—well, you _think_ you are. But… it just feels good to have someone there by you that's not too different, who likes guys, too. It's just… I'm relieved I'm not alone anymore."

Gerard's heart is beating just a little bit faster. He's smiling. He turns over onto his side and hugs Frank, and Frank hugs him back.

When Frank pulls away, he asks Gerard, "How do you think a first kiss is like?" And Gerard feels like showing him right there, but he shrugs instead. Frank slowly nods, and then his face is beaming. "I wonder if it'll be like _Romeo and Juliet_."

Gerard rolls his eyes, but finds himself saying, "I'll be your Romeo."

His heart starts speeding up when he feels a couple of Frank's fingertips graze across the surface of his palm before intertwining with his fingers, gripping them. "I'll be waiting on my balcony."


	5. Chapter 5

Billie Joe doesn't think it's very fair that he doesn't get to go over to Gerard's house. He doesn't care that all his siblings are back in town. They're all in college and have bright futures ahead of them, and all of them are gonna place bets on whether or not Billie's going to go to college or do anything after high school.

Billie has thought about it, but he will never tell them that.

He's decided that he won't go to college because he sees no point in it.

And he's going to drop out of high school. He doesn't know when, but it's probably gonna be in his junior or senior year. He hasn't told his mom about his plan yet, but he knows it's only a matter of time, since he has just watched the rest of his family travel through the front door.

He tries to concentrate on the guitar in his hands, tries to remember the chords he had played last night that sounded good enough to put in a song. He feels a hand attach to his shoulder, making him jump. "What're you doing, BJ?"

Billie watches the guitar shake in his hands. "Playing Blue, dumbass," he hisses, trying to play the chords again.

"You gotta speak up, little bro."

Billie quickly pulls his right hand back as he watches a string break before his eyes. He sighs. It's his own fault, but he can't help feeling a sudden surge of anger. He hops up from the couch and stomps off to his room. He throws Blue and his pick on the bed before closing and locking the door behind him, wanting his family members to waste their breath yelling at him to unlock the door. He'll climb in through his window if he needs to get back in.

Right when he passes through the living room to get to the kitchen, every one of his siblings starts talking to him, and it makes his head hurt.

"Hey! There's little Billie Joe!"

"Billie! Where's your guitar?"

"I heard guitars are for those rock stars. Most of them are fags, you know."

"When did Billie come out?"

"Billie finally came out?"

Billie can feel his heart break in his chest. He goes into the kitchen, glancing around for his mother. He bites at his lip and turns to go out the door that will lead to the garage attached to their house. He pushes open the door and gets hit with cool air. He rubs his arms and goes down the stairs, glancing around at the boxes and piles of junk stacked up. He's surprised his mother's car can even fit in here.

Speaking of her, Billie sees her getting out cans of soda out of the mini 'fridge they kept out here. She doesn't notice her youngest son, so he stands on the cold, smooth pavement, shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other. "Mom?" he finally says. He bites at his lip more.

She raises her head, turning around to look at him. "Oh, hi, Billie Joe." She sets the can she had in her hand on top of the refrigerator. "What's wrong, dear?"

"Can I please go to Gerard's?" he asks, clapping his hands together in a beg. "Everybody's making fun of me, and I just want to leave."

She frowns at him. "They're just playing. They missed you."

Billie shakes his head and takes a step toward her. "You don't understand. They called me a fag."

Her face softens, and she lightly touches his cheek. "Why do you care? It's just a name."

He shuffles his feet. "I know, but…" He sighs, losing all courage and any shred of self-confidence he had gathered. "Then, can I just walk around for a bit? Get some fresh air?"

He hears her sigh, and he knows he's gotten what he wanted. "Hurry back," she says, moving over to grab at the cans of pop. "You better not smell like cigarette smoke when you come back. You said you wanted fresh air, not smoke."

Billie finds it really hard not to smirk. "I won't, Mom." He watches her go back inside. He waits for a few moments to check to see if she's coming back. Once the coast is clear, he starts over to his skateboard, which is propped up by the side of the steps and grabs it. He doesn't bother putting on shoes or even a jacket as he heads toward the door leading out of the garage, the house.

It only takes him a few second to get onto the sidewalk in front of his house. He slowly maneuvers on the skateboard, not wanting to fall. He digs in his back pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Just thinking about smoking makes him cough, but he still lights up.

He had started smoking a couple weeks ago, and he still needed to get used to it. Frank, Gerard, and he had all tried smoking at the same time, deciding that they needed something to shorten their lifespan, and they all agreed inhaling cigarette smoke each day was a great idea.

Billie notices his skateboard is about to come to a stop, so he puts a bare foot on the sidewalk and kicks off.

But he immediately freezes when he feels a hand come in contact with his back. "Hey, you got a cigarette?"

Billie nearly jumps off his skateboard, but he manages to keep his feet planted on the board. "Fuck," he curses. He looks over at the person who had scared him, and it turns out to be the same man who had confronted them in the diner. Billie rolls his eyes and takes a slow drag from his cigarette. "I think you're stalking me."

"I just followed you home."

Billie's eyes widen, and he tries to speed up on his skateboard. "Um, please leave me alone. Mommy told me not to talk to strangers." He smirks and flicks ashes off the stick.

The man doesn't seem to hear Billie. "Why aren't you wearing shoes, a jacket?"

Billie sways on the board and looks down at his clothes—just a white thermal with a red The Who t-shirt over it and a pair of black skinny jeans. He curls his toes, thinking that these pants are too tight around his legs, his knees. He shakes it off and glances at the man walking by him on the sidewalk. "Go shower," he says, bringing the cig to his mouth to suck on it.

Billie hears the man sigh. "That's getting old."

He shrugs and tosses the cigarette on the ground. He runs it over with a wheel. "Well, it's true." He inhales and can taste rain on his tongue. He looks up at the dark clouds. "What do you want?"

"I want you to give this to your friend—the cute one with long black hair." He presses something into Billie's palm.

Billie's fingers curl around it, and he holds it to his face, looking at it. It's a small strip of paper with ten numbers on it. Billie doesn't even have to think about it. He tears it into a dozen small pieces before tossing it over his shoulder. "No. I'm not about to set my friend up for an opportunity for you to stalk him. Now, please go away, take a shower."

Billie smirks and goes to push off on the skateboard, but he's shoved off by the man. He lands on his back in someone's front yard. He starts to get up, to yell at the man, but a hand claps over his mouth, and Billie hears something flip out, and then something cold presses against his pale neck.

He quickly closes his eyes, wanting the man to kill him already, but he feels his mouth on his ear, and he knows it's far from over. Billie can smell alcohol on his breath.

"Now, listen here, punk," the man starts. "I want you to tell your little friend to meet me at the park on this coming Monday at six o'clock. If I don't see him there, I'm gonna show up at your house and fucking cut up your pretty face."

Billie feels the object dig into his skin. He can almost hear the blood spill out of his skin.

"Don't tell anyone about this, okay?" the man hisses. "Do you got it?"

Billie slowly nods, and he feels the man lift off his chest.

When he finally opens his eyes, he doesn't see him, and he's frightened out of his mind.

He slowly gets up, grabs his skateboard, and runs home, not one bit scared that his mom might smell smoke on him, but piss because he's sure he's pissed his pants.


	6. Chapter 6

Bert had found out earlier that morning that he never went to art school. It seems that he had stalked some man when he was nineteen, kidnapped him, raped him, and beat him to the point of hospitalization instead. He was thrown in jail for seven years.

He apparently was released a few months ago. The paintings and art supplies around his apartment were items he was allowed to keep from his time in jail.

He finds it sad that he had to hear all this information from some girl who idolized him in high school for no reason. He was just going outside to pay the rent, and she was walking down the road. She kind of froze for a second before jumping up and down, squealing his name over and over. He tried to get her to calm down, and when she did, the first thing she said was, "When did they release you?"

And that's how Bert found out he was a big scary rapist.

He walks down the street, flipping his switchblade back into its handle. That kid's blood is on the blade. Bert doesn't like foreign substances on his silver. He takes a deep breath, pocketing his knife before continuing walking down the sidewalk, letting the moon light his way.

His vision is a bit fuzzy.

Maybe he shouldn't have stopped by his house to get a drink before following the punk's mom's car. Bert rubs his forehead with his fist, frowning and groaning.

Maybe if he didn't get a drink, he would have seen where the other boy lived.

But oh, no. He had to give in to his alcoholism and act like a damn fool in front of that punk.

Bert loudly yells and punches the nearest thing to him. He curses and waves his soon-to-be bruised hand. He softly insults himself under his breath for attacking a wall. He drops to the sidewalk, rubbing his knuckles. He pauses, furrowing his brow. "I don't drink," he says out loud. He glances around the area he is in—walls of brick lit up by glowing street lights.

Bert frowns and ends up lowering his head when the light closest to him blows out. He puts his healthy hand to his face and lets his guard down, showing weakness. He doesn't like to, but he can't help it.

He curls into a ball and falls onto his side, breaking down into sobs.

Thunder cracks overhead, and rain drops fall.

*

Gerard pulls his textbook from his locker that following Monday morning. He exhales and holds the book under his arm. "I hate fuckin' Spanish," he says with a low voice and a roll of his hazel eyes. He looks at Frank before closing his locker. "We should've taken Latin or something."

Frank shrug. "It was full." He digs a free hand into his hoodie pocket since the other is busy holding the purple textbook. He slips out a small red package of candy. He attempts to open it with his teeth.

Gerard smiles. "I thought you didn't like Skittles."

Frank's pace quickens as he tries to catch up with Gerard without spilling the contents in his hand. "I do, but it's sugar, so I don't care. M'tried as hell." He weakly laughs and pops a yellow one in his mouth. He winces, and then chews. "I hate lemon."

Gerard wraps an arm around Frank's shoulders, guiding him through the halls, knowing his mind is on consuming as much sugar in less than three minutes.

They reach the classroom and sit down in their seats near the door. Gerard pulls a leg into his chair, bringing it close to his chest. He smells food, and he spots their teacher coming in with a plate of Hispanic cuisine. His stomach rumbles. He looks around the room for a second before saying, "Hey, Frank?"

Gerard sees his friend stash the Skittles bag in a girl's hood who's sitting in front of him. "Huh?" He turns his head to look at Gerard. He pushes his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

Gerard nibbles on his bottom lip. "Where's Billie Joe?"

Frank glances around, and then shrugs. "Dunno."


	7. Chapter 7

Ollie didn't see it fit to let her son go to school on Monday. When he walked out of his bedroom to get some breakfast, his skin was unnaturally pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. She knew he liked to experiment with makeup, but those circles weren't from any cosmetics. They were caused by lack of sleep from the night before, possibly even an illness.

She had turned her son right back around and sent him to bed.

She doesn't understand why he isn't venturing outside his room now, though. It's after school hours. She looks over at the clock above the stove in the kitchen, noting that it was just around seven. Normally, Billie would've been out and about the house, playing his guitar or even the piano they kept in the corner of the living room. He would've been helping her make dinner while they sang The Ramones out of key.

She furrows her brow and starts toward his room. She can hear him crying and saying, "no, no, no." She softly raps on the door with a couple of her knuckles. "Billie, honey, what's wrong?" She pauses. "What're you doing?"

She listens by the door, waiting. "I'm writing a song," she hears him say. "It's… just… I miss my dad… I mean—never mind."

She sighs, shaking her head. It's been a little bit over five years since his father's come to pass. She can't believe that it still hits Billie with such emotion that brings him to tears. "Poor boy," she murmurs, walking off.

*

Billie closes his eyes, feeling sweat, blood, and tears run down his cheeks. "I don't like it that you made me say that."

He feels the tip of the blade bounce against his back. "Oh, well."

"You shouldn't have insulted my father."

"Stop bitching. You're gonna make yourself cry more. You already look unattractive." The man pushes a lock of stringy hair behind an ear. "Now, can you please pass on this message to your little black-haired friend?"

Billie sighs, rolling his eyes. "No."

He feels the knife on his neck, then, pressing against the healing wound already there. "I don't want to cut your face up again, Billie Joe."

The man raises a hand, lightly touching his right cheek and forehead. They are all scratched up, still bleeding. "What's your name?"

The man passes a note into Billie's hand. "John Doe, now, read that to your friend." He shoves the house phone toward him next.

Billie skims over the piece of paper, shaking his head when he spots an address. "Why are you obsessed with him?"

"I just want to touch him, help him guide his hand up and down his sh—"

Billie jumps back, and he stares at the other, shaking his head. "Man, you're sick. Besides, he has a boyfriend." Not entirely true, but Billie knew Gerard and Frank had something.

He watches the man's crazy demeanor morph into disappointment, and he mutters, "Oh."

Billie's about to tell him to leave, but he's silenced by the blade being brought to his mouth. "I want you to get on that Goddamn phone and tell him what's on that paper."

Billie's eyes close. "He has a boyfriend—Fr—" He quickly closes his mouth.

"Who's his boyfriend?!" The man nearly shits his pants as his eyes widen.

"Fred."

The knife moves before his eyes, and then slices across his unwounded cheek. "Liar." The man lets out a rough breath. "Call him, punk. I don't have all day."

Billie slowly opens his eyes and raises a few fingers to gingerly touch the new scratch on his face. He softly sighs and picks up the house phone. He glides his thumb across the keypad, quickly punching in Gerard's number, not wanting the man to see. Billie glances at him before putting the phone to his ear, hearing it ring.

After the seventh ring, Billie starts to think Gerard's busy or Frank's over or he isn't even in his house, but he soon hears the ringing stop, and his friend's voice is heard. "Hi, Billie! I was just about to call you to see what's up, but I kinda fell asleep…"

Billie can't help but to smile and laugh, and this causes the man to poke at his side with the switchblade. Billie bats it away, and he hears the man hiss, "Read the note."

Billie Joe frowns and holds the paper close to his face. "Hey… Jared, can I ask you something?"

Gerard pauses. "Jared?"

Billie doesn't answer. He just reads the messy handwriting on the small piece of notebook paper without any hesitation. He comes to the address, and he recites it with a slight shake in his voice. He feels the knife's tip dig into his jaw line, making a long scratch down the bone.

"Fuck. You messed up."

Billie lets out a soft cry, and Gerard, being the good friend he is, has to ask him what's wrong. With the knife being dug deeper into his jaw line, Billie puts up a struggle saying anything, but he manages to say, "I'm just thinking about my father."

Billie feels the pressure on his cheek being taken away, and it seems like a great pain is lifted off his shoulders. "You're such a good liar, kid," the man purrs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, BJ. He died this month, didn't he?" Gerard asks, a hint of concern in his tone.

Billie wads the paper in his fist. "Yeah, he did." He closes his eyes and says with great strain, "Can you meet me at the address I said earlier? So, we can, like, hang or something?"

It hurts the bleeding Billie badly at Gerard's voice, at how he doesn't know what's going to happen to him. "Of course, Billie. I'll be there in a few minutes. Okay?"

Billie actually starts to cry. "Okay." He quickly hangs up on the oblivious Gerard. He throws the phone under his bed, knowing it'll be a hassle to try and find it in the piles of shit he has under there later. He looks up at the man, watching him clean the knife's blade with his tongue. "What are you going to do to him? To… Jared?"

The man pockets his weapon. "Nothing bad." He bends down to Billie's level, cups his cheek, and roughly kisses him. It doesn't last long, and the man, then, stands up, looking down at him. "Thanks for setting me up on a date, sweetie." And he goes over to Billie's window, jumping out and walking off.

Billie's left on the floor, shaking. He raises his hand to his mouth, touching his lips, murmuring "no" under his breath. Thoughts rapidly skim over his mind, and then he slowly starts to relax. That wasn't his first kiss. He lost it when he was thirteen. The boy was just around thirteen, too, he thinks.

Billie Joe snaps out of his memories, and he leaps across his room, diving under his bed, searching for the phone. He doesn't care one bit at the fact he's getting blood on every possession he owns when he throws them over his shoulder.

The only thing plaguing his mind is the need to call Gerard again, warn him not to go, stay inside, and never leave.


	8. Chapter 8

Gerard had to tell his parents that he was going over to Frank's because he needed help with a science project. He had them convinced, but it was a different story with his little brother. He followed Gerard right to the front door.

"Where are you really going?" he whispered.

"I'm going to Frank's, Mikey. Now, go away," he whispered right back.

"You guys are gonna do it up the butt, aren't you?"

His eyes had widened, and his mouth popped open. "Mikey! You're only eleven! How do you know all this?"

Mikey only smiled and ran off.

Gerard still wonders how Mikey had learned all this information. He found out how two males done it last year by Billie showing them a website he had come across. Some things are still a bit fuzzy for Gerard, though, like, how was something supposed to fit up there? It's tight, and it hurt Gerard when he tried to put a second finger in all the way. He starts to wonder if he's even cut out to be with another man, and then he thinks about women, at how it must hurt to have a man inside them. He's glad God let some girls on this planet be lesbians and bisexuals, bless some of them with the relief of pain a man will give her during sex. How did two girls do it, anyway?

Gerard furrows his brow.

He has Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" stuck in his head. He decides to hum along to it.

Gerard realizes he has just been thinking about fucking as he walks to the place Billie had wanted to meet him. He's ashamed at himself for being so dirty, naughty. He looks up at the building ahead him, and he can't help but to be a little confused.

It's just a normal apartment building. It's one of the run-down, cheap ones that has the brick exterior falling apart and all the drug dealers and whores inside.

But why would Billie want to meet him here?

Gerard's about to call out his friend's name, but he feels a wet cloth press against his nose and mouth from behind. He takes a sharp intake of breath, smelling something sweet, but it suddenly turns rotten, and it makes his head painfully throb until he passes out.

*

Whenever Gerard comes around, his whole body feels heavy, and his mind is fuzzy. He doesn't know where he's at, but he suspects it's somewhere in that apartment he was standing in front of, observing.

He tries to move around, but it's difficult. His hand comes in contact with a pillow. So, he was on a bed or maybe a couch. He moves his legs around, then. All he can feel is cushion and soft blankets. Definitely a bed.

Okay, he's on a bed in an apartment unit that's mostly likely in possession of a drug addict.

He has to find a way to get out of here.

He sniffs a bit too loudly and tries to roll around, and that's when it hits him.

_He's fucking handcuffed to the bed._

Gerard starts to panic, and he roughly squirms, yanking on the cuffs, making the metal cut into his wrists and ankles. He softly whines and pulls even harder, trying to get himself free from the restraints.

His heartbeat accelerates when the sweet smell hits his nostrils once more. It only takes a moment for him to point out what the scent is called, and he doesn't understand how he couldn't have thought of it earlier, since all the news stations were reporting the same fucking story, and his mom always liked to keep all the televisions in their house on those channels.

It was chloroform. The colorless liquid smelled sweet in small quantities, but it turned rather bitter in much larger doses.

Gerard can almost thank Casey Anthony, but the sweet fragrance comes closer to him, and weight is added to the bed. He can hear it creak, and he gives the handcuffs a small shake. "Hello," he says, thinking he should give the man a proper greeting before he dies or gets raped. "Can you let me go? My, uh, friend is waiting for me."

Gerard hears the man on the edge of the bed laugh. He hears the bed creak some more, and then the room is filled with a dim light. It doesn't do well to help Gerard see what's around him, but it does well enough to show him who the man is—the one with long, greasy black hair.

Gerard can feel another panic attack start to build inside his chest, and he rattles the handcuffs around on the metal railing of the rather large bed. "Let me go, let me go, let me go."

The panicking Gerard hears the older man shush him, and then scoot closer to him on the bed, putting a finger to his mouth. "Be quiet, Jared, darling."

Gerard's eyes widen. He starts to ask the man why he's calling him that, but he remembers Billie had said it, too, so he takes it as a type of protection. He studies the man hovering above him, and he can't seem to break their eye contact.

"You have pretty eyes."

The man smiles and blinks his blue orbs. "Thank you." He starts to slowly lean in, but Gerard turns his head to the side, looking ahead at the wall, staring at the peeling wallpaper.

"Why am I in handcuffs?" Gerard softly asks, continuing to look ahead. The next thing he feels are his wrists and ankles becoming detached from the metal hoops.

"I'm sorry I had to tie you up," the man says, as he scoots closer to Gerard again, lightly touching his cheek. "I just… I didn't want you to leave."

Gerard tenses up. "I don't know you." He moves across the bed sheets, ending up falling on his back on the hard wood floor. He squeals. "Why am I here? Who are you?"

He sees the man's head pop out from the edge of the bed, looking down at him. "I'm Johnny." His eyes widen, and he carefully gets down on the floor, being cautious of Gerard. He gets on top of him, tilting his head, blinking. "And I'm infatuated with you, Jared."

Gerard stares at the man named Johnny. "Why? I'm… not appealing."

"You're appealing to me, man."

"Let me go home."

Johnny shakes his head. "No, not yet." He leans in, pressing their foreheads together. "Let me…" He starts to lean in even more, and Gerard's eyes widen. He puts his hands on his shoulders, pushing him away before rolling out from under him, getting up, and walking around the room, taking note of the objects in here, which is just a bed and a shitty floor lamp. Gerard frowns and turns around, going over to the small window to the left of him. It looks like a window that they have in prison cells. Gerard feels trapped in here.

"Why'd you go over there, Jared?"

Gerard almost wants to yell at the man for getting his name wrong, but he quickly calms himself down and makes up an excuse. "I wanted to look outside. It was raining earlier."

"Yeah, I saw a rainbow."

Gerard sneers. "I hate rainbows."

Johnny laughs. "Then, how are you gay?"

Gerard feels something inside him sink. He presses a few fingertips to the window ledge, biting his lip. "You're seventeen, right?" he asks, and he jumps, feeling the man's hands on his hips, digging in his nails. Gerard can feel the man nod against him as he kisses the soft spot underneath his ear. "Good, I'm seventeen, too," he whispers. He hardly feels any guilt for his lie.

Johnny squeezes Gerard's sides. "You're very underdeveloped for a seventeen year old."

Gerard's self-esteem lowers even more. He's underdeveloped? Last time he checked, he wasn't. He has leg hair, even if it's not that visible from afar. He has underarm hair. He can grow facial hair— _bad_ facial hair, but still facial hair all the same. Hell, he even has pubic hair. Doesn't that mean he's developed? Wait, Johnny said for a seventeen year old. Gerard's actually fifteen. He's worrying too much. He nervously picks at his nails and shakes his head, glancing at Johnny. "Can I go home? My boyfriend's waiting."

The man stares at Gerard, eyes narrowed. "No." And then, his mouth goes on Gerard's, snatching away his very first kiss he intended to save for Frank.


	9. Chapter 9

Billie's stomach is killing him. It's twisted together in various forms of excruciating pain that makes his knees tremble, screeching their desire to buckle together and drop to the floor.

But he has to stay strong. He doesn't want Frank noticing something's wrong. It would make him feel a bit betrayed, confused.

_Why did Gerard and Billie meet up somewhere without me?_

_Were they talking about me?_

_Are they dating?_

Billie sees Frank peek out the corner of his eye, behind the safety of his locker door. Yeah, he's probably paranoid now, since Gerard isn't here today, and he's sure as hell acting like he knows something.

Frank slams his locker shut, and they turn to walk down the nearly empty hallway. Billie glances up at a clock as they pass it. It's just nearing three thirty. They stayed at Frank's locker for too long. His mom wants him at the house before four, and it takes just a little over fifteen minutes to even skateboard home, and he doesn't have his board today because he didn't feel like he would have had enough strength to use it.

He groans out. "Come on, man. We gotta go faster."

Frank turns his head to look behind him, at Billie, eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in a hurry." He holds the door open for Billie, and Billie practically jumps through.

Great. Frank's suspicious. Billie bites his lip and watches Frank as he softly asks, "Are you sure you don't know anything about Gerard?"

Billie wants to spill everything, but he really doesn't want his face getting cut again. He had to use some of his mom's foundation this morning to hide the scratches from the situation yesterday. He knows he's being a huge jerk, but he can't help it. He shakes his head. "Yeah. I don't know anything."

Frank keeps his light eyes on him before sighing, lowering his head. "I'm worried about him." They're now off the school property and heading down the sidewalk. "It's just not like him to do this," continues Frank. "He never misses school, and if he does, he tells me about it." Frank nervously chews on his lip. "I'm sorry, Billie. I'm just really worried." And with that, he darts the other direction down the concrete walkway.

Billie loudly groans once more, and his hand turns into a fist as it presses into his stomach, the skin, the muscle. He runs after Frank.

After what seems like forever, Billie comes to a stop, seeing Frank stand in front of a pay phone by the diner they usually visit. He's heavily breathing as he sees Frank tightly grip the phone, his hands shaking. His eyes are a red color, and Billie can tell he's trying to contain his cries, his frustration.

Only a few minutes pass by before Frank drops the phone down back on its holder. "Fuck," he curses, his teeth gritted. "Nobody picked up." His hazel irises seem to pop out of his head as he glares at Billie. "You have five seconds to tell me what happened to Gerard unless you want me to fucking hurt you." Despite Frank's small stature, Billie honestly feels intimidated. He stares at him for a few seconds before lowering his head and telling Frank everything. He can even feel the scratches on his face start to itch and burn at the mention.

When Billie gets done with his story, it looks like Frank is struggling with the urge to attack him. "And you just let him go?!" he yells, reaching out and grabbing onto the front of Billie's shirt. He shakes him. "You let him just go off to that creep's house? He's going to hurt him! He might rape him, kill him!"

Billie pushes Frank away. "You're overreacting. He's probably just…" He bites at his lip. He really doesn't know what they could be doing that couldn't be harmful. The man's incredibly dangerous—he's damaged Billie a number of times—and he had sent his friend into his apartment.

It slowly begins to sink in.

Billie's eyes widen, and he grabs at Frank's hand. "We gotta go find him."

He takes off to the address that's been polluting his mind ever since he recited it last night.

*

Gerard finds Johnny's apartment very nice, even if nothing works in it. He discovered this piece of information whenever he got up that morning and pissed in a toilet that wouldn't flush. It also greatly disappoints him that the coffee machine was broken and missing a few parts. It hurt him a lot to lack his morning caffeine, but he's managed this long.

Gerard's noticed that Johnny hardly has any food in the house, too. He went to go tell him, but he had gotten his cheek smashed and been told to "fuck off". So, he sat down on the battered couch that only had one cushion and tried to tell himself that Johnny probably wasn't a morning person.

Around noon, Johnny finally ventures out of his bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with a light layer of sweat coating his pale skin, which makes Gerard think he probably isn't going to school today.

"Why weren't you in bed?" Johnny asks as he drags himself into the kitchen. Gerard wonders what Johnny could possibly be doing in there, since everything's broken, but his voice brings him back. "I woke up with morning wood, and I had to take care of it myself."

"I'm inexperienced," Gerard murmurs, bringing his knees to his chest.

"I don't give a fuck. You can still swallow. Now, we have no food. Is this your doing, Jared?" Johnny questions, as he walks out of the kitchen. He narrows his eyes.

Gerard shakes his head. "No, no. You just need to go shopping."

Johnny groans. "Not again." He disappears for a second and comes back with a pair of black Chucks on. "I'll be back." He bites his lip, and then jumps at Gerard on the couch.

He pins him down on the uncushioned part of the couch and kisses him with too much teeth and tongue.

Gerard's legs flail out from under him, and his heart speeds up in his chest. He softly moans and tries to kiss Johnny back the best he can.

And then, Gerard lets out a small squeal when he feels Johnny's large hand pull his shirt over his stomach, and with his other hand, dig in his jeans, slowly going through the thin dark hair underneath his belly button, leading up to—

Wait.

He's laughing.

Why's Johnny laughing?

He pulls away from Gerard and gets up off the couch. "I'll be back." He looks at Gerard once more before shaking his head and walking out the apartment.

Gerard furrows his brow. Johnny must have his reasons to laugh. He undoes his pants and looks down.

Yeah, Johnny must have his reasons because Gerard sees nothing wrong.

Gerard sighs, a smile on his face.

*

"Are you positive this is the right place?"

Billie stares up at the apartment building ahead of them. His eyes trace across the outline of the brick exterior. He sees one of them fall off the edge and land next to the rough staircase. "Yeah, he said this address."

Frank shakes his head and sighs as he carefully climbs the stairs. "Whatever. He better be in here. Do you know which unit he's in?" He looks behind him at Billie, who's still on the sidewalk, eyes wide, lips parted. Frank takes a deep breath. "I'll go inside by myself. You can stay out here and keep watch." He nods, and Billie returns the gesture. He stares at Billie once more before turning to the building and stepping inside.

He doesn't know where to look first. So, he just decides to go toward the elevator. He pauses in front of it, ready to push the up button, but he slowly pulls his hand back and walks past it to go up the stairs, paranoid that the lift could possibly break while he's on it.

He climbs up the stone steps, hearing his shoes hit the pavement, and then echo through the empty room. He nibbles on his lip and pulls his thin jacket closer to his body. He can actually see his breath in front of him when he opens his mouth and blows out.

He slips out of the large room, stepping onto the first floor. He glances around the hallway, wrinkling his nose at the smell of vomit and shit in the air. He puts his hand to his face and tries his hardest to just breathe in through his mouth.

He figures the man that took Gerard would probably live on this floor. He can tell all the cheap apartment units are down here by how the paint and wood are chipping off the walls and the doors. He frowns and continues down the hallway. "Where to look?" he mumbles under his breath. He softly laughs for a moment, hearing his voice sound more nasally than it normally is because he's holding his nostrils shut. He giggles some more before stopping and cocking his head to the side.

He swears he just heard singing.

He shakes his head and continues down the hallway, beginning to get a little scared. The overhead lights flicker, and a couple of them shut off behind Frank.

"With just a touch of my burning hand, I sent my astro zombies to rape this land. Prime directive—exterminate the whole human race."

Frank stops walking. Now, he knows he isn't going crazy. He smiles a bit and looks around, hoping for the chance to hear the person sing once more.

"And your face just drops in a pile of flesh—"

Frank jumps in front of a door where he can hear the singing come from the clearest. He presses his ear against the chipped wood. "And then, your heart, heart pounds 'til it pumps in death," he interrupts the singer, joining in.

Frank bounces back from the door as it swings open and reveals Gerard. _Gerard_. His hazel eyes brighten, and he wraps his arms around Frank, pulling him into the apartment. "Prime directive—exterminate whatever stands left!" he sings loudly, and he spins them around.

Frank's feet can't even touch the ground. He laughs and lets Gerard twirl them. Gerard e sets him down after a few moments. With wide eyes, he asks, "Have you came to visit us?"

Frank's face drops, and he narrows his eyes at Gerard. "Visit you?" He bites at his lip. "Gerard, you don't live here."

"Oh, I know that!" he says, laughing. "I have to get all my stuff first, and then I'll move in with Johnny. Well, first, I have to wait 'til he comes back from shopping, and then I'll go get my stuff and move in with him." He nods and glances around. "He should've been back by now."

Frank's eyes are still narrowed. He steps away from Gerard. "Dude, you're not going to live with him."

"Yeah, I am."

"Uh, no, you aren't. I've come to get you."

Gerard furrows his brow and tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

Frank's mouth pops open. "Well, uh, y'know, so that guy won't hurt you."

Gerard waves a hand. "You're crazy, Frankie. Johnny won't do that."

"Uh-huh, yeah. Well, you're still going to my house."

"No."

Frank grabs Gerard's hand and starts pulling him away from the door. Gerard puts up a struggle. "Billie and I have to give you a going-away present, Gerard. So, um, you'll remember us."

Gerard laughs again. "Okay, fine by me." He grabs at Frank's hand, lacing their fingers together, and starts skipping off.

Frank squeezes at Gerard's hand, suddenly feeling a bit sick to his stomach.

*

Gerard steps out of Frank's closet after searching through it and almost destroying everything in the process. "Where's my present?" he asks with a straight face.

"Uh, you should try in the living room now. I think I left it in there." Frank nods, and Gerard groans, but does what he says. Frank watches as the door closes, and then turns to Billie Joe on his bed. "What are we going to do about him?" he asks quietly, raising a hand to chew on his fingernail. "He's going to be in trouble if we let him go back to that guy's place."

Billie looks down at his feet on the floor. He curls his toes. "That won't happen. We'll just tell him Johnny or whatever the hell his name is got run over by a train." He nods and looks at Frank. "Seems like a plan?"

Frank reaches out and shoves Billie off his bed. "We gotta be realistic. Nobody would just walk in front of a moving train."

"Who walked in front of a moving train?" Gerard walks into the bedroom, sighing. "My present wasn't in the living room. It may have been, since I don't know what you two got me. But. I dunno." He shrugs. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Oh, your boyfriend got hit by a train," Billie pipes up from the floor. He puts his hands behind his head, trying to get comfortable.

Gerard's eyes double in size. "What?"

Frank shakes his head and gets off his bed, going over to Gerard, putting his hands on his shoulders. "No, no. Just ignore Billie. He's just… jealous—"

"I'm jealous?"

"—that you have such a… great boyfriend."

Billie snorts, but Gerard doesn't care. He's smiling. "I know I do. I think he loves me."

Frank eyes him. He raises an eyebrow. "You just met him."

The love-struck Gerard shrugs a shoulder and sighs. "I know, but… I can't help it." He puts his hands to his chest. "I just… feel like he's the one, y'know? I wanna be with him forever."

"You're only fifteen!" Frank exclaims. He sits up and looks at Gerard with a concerned expression. "You can't be serious, man."

He doesn't respond, and Billie shoots Frank a look. Frank returns it, and he looks back over at Gerard, taking a deep breath. "Billie, can you leave us alone?" He does as Frank says and closes the door behind him. Gerard and Frank intently stare at each other. "Gerard, are you fucking losing your mind?" Frank lays his hand on Gerard's chest, curling his fingers into the hand that's pressed above his heart. "You can't possibly love that guy. He's, he's… weird." He can't think up of a better word, and he starts to think he possibly offended his best friend, but he says four words that cause Frank to roll his eyes.

"I like weird people."

He leans his head in, pressing it against Gerard's chest. He tightly closes his eyes and hugs Gerard around the waist, reciprocating with his own four words.

"And I like you."

He can feel Gerard tense up under him, and his hands are, then, on his shoulders, pushing him away. "No, no, Frank… don't—"

Frank keeps his hold on Gerard, not wanting him to break apart. He doesn't want to. He's afraid he'll lose him. "Gerard, please. Just—"

"No. Get away from me."

Frank wants to cry. He tries hard not to. He looks up at Gerard with big eyes, and then gets up on his tiptoes, pressing his trembling lips to his, tangling his fingers into his long messy hair.

Frank will like to think that Gerard kissed him back, and they proceeded to get onto his bed, slip under the covers, kiss each other while removing each article of clothing, and then both experience the horrible pain and satisfying pleasure of making love for the first time, but he gets none of that.

Instead, he gets a slap to the face, a push to the ground, and his heart broken by being called "a little fucker" from the boy he dearly loves.


	10. Chapter 10

Gerard doesn't understand why Frank had kissed him or even said he liked him. He thinks Frank's lying because Johnny had told him no one else would love him like he did. Gerard finds that sweet, and he's heading over to his apartment now, just to tell him how he's so sweet and perfect.

He can't wait until he turns eighteen, so he can get married to him! Wait, he told Johnny he was seventeen… Well, he'll just tell him that he'll have to get married whenever he's twenty or something.

What's Johnny's last name?

Gerard bites at his lip, shakes his head, and continues to his boyfriend's apartment.

Like he always does whenever he's walking, he starts to think about random shit that pops up in his head. Right now, it's his self-esteem, self-confidence. He thinks it's really low, but that's just his opinion. Why else would he go to drastic measures to be with someone like Johnny?

Was he questioning his relationship with Johnny? No, he shouldn't be. He loves Johnny.

But, but… Frank? What about him?

Gerard raises a hand to touch his mouth, his bottom lip, right where Frank had kissed him. Does he really love Johnny, or is it Frank?

He presses a hand to his stomach, feeling sick. He bends over and vomits all over the carpet before him.

Wait a second. Carpet?

Gerard raises his head from the icky, brown substance and looks around, realizing that he must've walked right into Johnny's apartment unit.

He doesn't find that scary at all—honest.

What he does find scary?

There's a .357 Magnum pointing right at him.

He feels like puking even more.

His hazel eyes slowly raise up, and he sees Johnny there, holding it. Gerard roughly swallows. "I, I wanted to tell you something," he mumbles.

The barrel of the gun presses against his forehead. "Does it have something to do with why you just ruined my carpet?"

Gerard quickly closes his eyes. "Yes… Can you pull the gun back?" God, his voice is shaking.

For a small moment, he thinks Johnny's going to shoot him, but he pulls the gun back, and Gerard lets out a loud exhale. He instantly winces, though, feeling his head get snapped to the side. His cheek hurts, and he knows Johnny had struck him with the gun. "Get on the floor, bitch," Johnny urges, and Gerard does. He walks over to a clean spot on the carpet and lowers himself to his knees, keeping his head down. "On your stomach," Johnny hisses. "I don't want to look at you."

Gerard closes his eyes and fixes his position. He lies down, pressing his cheek to the rough, white carpet. He hears rustling. "Can I tell you something, Johnny?" he asks, his voice low.

Johnny groans. "What is it?"

"I think we should break up." Gerard's heart's in his throat. He can feel it thumping.

Johnny sighs. "You bitch. Oh, well." Gerard feels a weight go on his back, and then wet kisses are placed on his ear, his neck. Normally, Gerard would've found some sort of odd comfort to it, but that's not the case anymore. He finds it disgusting, and he wants to get away.

"I killed someone today."

Gerard's eyes quickly open. "Wh-what?"

Johnny places a kiss on the brim of his ear. "I killed someone today," he repeats nonchalantly.

Gerard keeps the same expression on his face. "Why? That's… that's _illegal_."

Johnny laughs. "You're so naïve, Jared. Practically everything I do is illegal, like what I'm about to do." He laughs more, and Gerard gets a chill up his spine.

"But _why_?" he asks, running his fingers along the carpet. He feels Johnny's hands go to his waist, slowly moving to his front.

"I'm leaving this town. I had to go out with a bang." He undoes Gerard's jeans and pushes them and his boxers down to his knees with one quick swipe. Gerard's eyes widen, and he tries to crawl away, but Johnny's hands are firm on his hips. "Ah, ah," he whispers sweetly in his ear. "I'm gonna do something to you that I've wanted to do ever since I lay eyes on you through that computer screen." He slightly lifts Gerard's ass in the air, and then reaches out to hold down his head, nailing him to the carpet. "I'm going to fucking _violate_ you," he growls. "And then, I'm going to run off. I don't want to get thrown in jail for murder and fucking a minor."

Gerard furrows his brow. "But aren't you—oh!" He grits his teeth and claws at the ground, feeling Johnny thrust in without any lubricant. It's hard, and it hurts. Gerard thinks he's not even using a condom, but he knows you're supposed to. Everywhere he's read, it says to have enjoyable anal sex, you must use a lot of lubricant, a condom, and prepare beforehand.

Well, he doesn't think Johnny's intentions are to make this pleasurable to him, and it really isn't. With each movement, it burns, and Johnny keeps smacking his ass, forcing him to clench around his cock.

It's been more than a couple minutes in, and Gerard is pretty sure he's getting carpet burn on his cheek. It's been rubbing against it for a while now, and oh, God, _Johnny just fucking grabbed his dick_.

"I want to hear you moan. Say my name."

Gerard doesn't want to. That means he likes it. When Johnny gets no response, he holds Gerard by the hips and slowly falls onto his back, letting Gerard sit on his groin in what Gerard thinks is the reverse cowboy position, but he can't be for certain. "You do it," he hears Johnny say.

Gerard bites at his fingers. "No, no, it hurts," he groans, but still attempts to rock on his hips, trying to enjoy it, but he can't, so Johnny lets out an angry breath and roughly holds onto his sides, proceeding to ram Gerard down on him. Gerard screams out in pain, and he bites on his fingers even more, drawing blood.

"Yes, yes, scream for me, darling," Johnny coos, and Gerard obeys. He lets out small whimpers, loud screams when the pain gets too intense, and even manages to moan out Johnny's name a few times.

And finally, after several long, horrible minutes, Johnny finishes, and he shoves Gerard off him. Gerard quickly fixes his pants and curls into a ball. He tries to tell himself that he's a virgin still, but the lurking, nasty, black monster named _rape_ lingers in his subconscious, gnawing at the _virgin_ status.

Gerard starts to cry. "Why, Johnny? I thought you loved me."

Johnny throws his head back and laughs as he gets up from the floor, fixing his own pants. "I never loved you. I just acted like that, so I could fuck you."

Gerard feels bile burn in his throat as a foot comes in contact with his ribs, his stomach.

"Oh, yeah. My name's _Bert_ , not Johnny."


	11. Chapter 11

Frank and Billie have managed to smoke a packet of cigarettes while Gerard's been gone.

"Fuck him," Frank mumbles, tearing open the next carton beside them. "I don't need him. He can be with that guy if he wants to." Frank puts the cigarette in his mouth, and Billie hands him the lighter. Frank lights it, and then blows out smoke through the open bedroom window. "I don't even care," he continues.

Billie lets Frank ramble even when he shouldn't. Frank can get carried away. "I bet you do care," Billie says, lighting up his own cigarette.

Frank stubbornly shakes his head.

"Dude, yeah, you do. I know how you look at him." Billie twirls the cigarette between his fingers. "You, like… die every time he mentions Johnny or what's his face." He furrows his brow. "How old do you think he is?" He flicks ashes off his cigarette.

Frank shrugs and tosses the butt out the window. He coughs. "Probably around thirty." He thinks for a moment, and then slams his hand on the windowsill. "We can get him for dating a minor."

Billie laughs. "As much as I like that idea, we don't have any proof that he's, like, thirty."

Frank stares at him. "No teenager can grow a beard like that unless they're a pedophile." They laugh for a few moments before the Frank sighs and asks, "Do you think he's over there now? Gerard, I mean." He bites his lip.

Billie throws his cigarette out the window. He shoves what's left of the cigarettes in his pocket. "Maybe."

"Do you think Johnny did something to him?"

Billie sucks in a deep breath. He looks out the window before closing it. "Do you want me to be honest?" He moves over and sits down on Frank's bed, and Frank rapidly nods. Billie looks up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I think Johnny did something to Gee."

Frank lowers his head. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

Frank bites his lip. "I'm going to go over there. Hopefully, he'll still be out shopping, like Gerard said before. Now, I'm gonna try and bring him back to your house. It's not that far from the guy's apartment." He walks over to his bed, sitting down beside Billie. "I need you to call the police if I don't show up at your house at all in forty-five minutes to an hour. Got it?"

Billie nods. "Sure."

"That means you can't smoke pot tonight."

He narrows his eyes. "Shit."

Frank reaches out and places his hands on Billie Joe's shoulders. "You gotta take this seriously."

He brushes Frank's hands away. "I know, I know."

Frank pulls him into a hug.

Billie hugs the other back. "Why?" he asks.

"I may not come back."

*

Gerard thinks he's in a puddle of his own ass blood.

Okay, okay. He just made himself chuckle from that little comment.

"Why're you snickering?" Johnny—no, _Bert_ —growls from his spot on the couch.

Gerard frowns. "Nothing."

Bert laughs. "I don't even know why I'm here. I could be across the state right now."

"But instead, you decided to stay here and rape me." Gerard nods. "That's cool."

"Shut the hell up, Jared. You're seventeen. You can date a fucking adult." Bert picks up the gun from his side.

Gerard frowns more. "Do you want me to come clean, Bert?" He raises his head from the ground.

"Whatever."

"My name's not Jared, and I'm not seventeen." Bert stares at him, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. "My name's actually Gerard, and I'm fifteen."

Bert doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Jared's cuter."

Gerard narrows his eyes. "So, you don't even care that I'm fifteen, that I'm a _minor_?"

Bert stares at him. "Nope." He slides off the couch, crawling over to Gerard. "Now, tell me, _Gerard_." He sneers. Gerard feels sick. Bert leans down and plants a gentle kiss on his mouth. "What made you find me unattractive? You were just so keen to fuck me, and then when I give you that choice, you don't want it."

"Fuck you," Gerard hisses. "You didn't give me a choice. You raped me."

Bert laughs and goes up to touch the waistband of his skinny jeans. "Wanna do round two?" Gerard's eyes widen. Bert darkly chuckles. "Then, tell me what changed your mind about being with me."

Gerard bites his lip.

*

"First floor… He's on the first floor," Frank mutters to himself. "But which unit is he?" He considers singing "Astro Zombies". Maybe Gerard will sing back or he could freak out the other tenants. He'll just hum it. Same effect, right?

It's not. Frank's been walking back and forth on the first floor, hoping to catch a small glimpse of Gerard's angelic voice, but not getting it. He's about to go to each door and ask if someone named Gerard's hiding in there when he hears a loud scream to the right. He turns around and attacks the nearest door. When he gets it open, he wants to vomit at the sight.

"Gerard," he says, eyes wide, his bottom lip trembling. "Oh, God." He starts over to him, getting on his knees, looking down at the broken, bleeding body of his best friend.

Gerard raises his head from the puddle of blood he was using as a pillow. He looks at Frank, blinking. "Frankie? Why are you here?" A small trail of blood pools out of his mouth. "You should leave. He's going to come back. He'll probably rape you and shoot you, too."

Frank's eyes widen. "What?" he asks, but doesn't give the other room to reply as he leans in, holding Gerard close, petting his head. "We gotta get you out of here." Frank rubs Gerard's arms, trying to comfort him, but he stops, feeling a warm, sticky substance attach to his palm. He looks at it, eyes widening even more. Gerard's arm is bleeding pretty badly. This must be where he got shot. He presses his palm to the wound. "I'll get you to a hospital. Now, you gotta try and get up, Gee."

Frank wraps his free arm around Gerard's shoulders, helping him up from the rough carpet. "It hurts, Frankie," he groans out.

"Hang in there, babe." He gives him a quick peck on the forehead. "Just hang in there." Frank looks ahead and starts back over to the door.

 _Click_.

"Put my boyfriend down."

Is that a gun? Frank looks ahead. "No," he says. "He's not your boyfriend."

He feels the gun press against the back of his head. "Oh, _really_? Well, if he's really your boyfriend, then, fuck him," he hisses with a grimace in his voice.

Frank blinks, and he makes the mistake letting his voice shake. "Wh-what?"

"Fuck him. Right now. I'll be watching."

Frank slowly closes his eyes and swallows. "And what if I don't?" Gerard's hand goes down, grasping the other's. He squeezes a few of his fingers as he softly whimpers.

The man laughs. "I'm going to kill you or well, severely damage you. I've done both. It'll be easy to do again, _Frankie_."

*

Billie chews on his lip. "Do you know where that's at, right?" he says into the phone. He's pretty sure nobody can get an idea of where a place is when you just tell them "oh, y'know, that run-down apartment where all the whores hang out". So, he just hopes they know where he's talking about.

He continues to gnaw a hole through his lip, anxiously waiting for the person over the phone's reply, and he gets it a few seconds later. "We know exactly where you're talking about, Mr. Armstrong. You'll be meeting us there, I presume?" the woman's voice is stern, and Billie suddenly feels the urge to lie to her, but this is a serious moment. Frank wasn't back with Gerard yet, and he had told Billie to call the police, so he did.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Be sure to bring back-up… or something," Billie says, nodding. "The man's, uh, a rapist, and he's killed people before, too, yeah." He's not entirely sure that's true, but he feels like he accomplished something when the woman tells him that she knows who he's talking about.

"His name's Bert McCracken. He was actually just released from jail a few months ago for kidnapping and sexual assault." Billie's mouth pops open. "Does that sound like the guy you're trying to turn in?"

"That sounds _a lot_ like him."

*

Frank protectively wraps his arms around Gerard, holding him close. "I'm not going to hurt him for your sick pleasure." He tries to comb his fingers through Gerard's hair, tries to get out the tangles.

"Oho, you better fucking do it."

Frank stares at the gun, feeling his eyes go cross. A hand touches his own, grabbing it. "You can't stop Bert," Gerard says, his voice barely audible. "Just do it. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I don't want _you_ getting hurt, Gee," Frank says, taking hold of Gerard's face in his hands. "I love you." He softly pecks his mouth, and he can almost feel Gerard kiss him back.

"Oh, boo-hoo. Just use his blood as lubricant," Bert groans. "I'm going to end up killing you, aren't I?" He twirls his gun in his hand. "I thought so."

Frank wraps his arms tighter around Gerard. He looks down. "Everything's going to be okay," he tells him. Frank closes his eyes, hearing more footsteps than usual outside the apartment, and then the door busts open, revealing several police officers. Frank gazes at them with wide eyes. He smiles. He sees Billie standing by the doorway, a smug look on his face.

Frank glances behind him, watching as a few officers climb onto Bert, pinning him down, snapping the metal handcuffs on his wrists. He turns his head to check if Gerard was watching the glorious moment of his abuser being taken down, but as Frank stares at Gerard, studies him, something just seemed wrong.

Gerard looks really pale, with his eyes peacefully closed, dark eyelashes against bruised cheeks, and something dreadful sinks in Frank. He looks up at Billie, eyes wider than ever before.

"Hospital," he cries. "Get me to one—now."


	12. Chapter 12

The sky is a light blue color when the month of January approaches. Three dark-haired teens sit down on the curb outside of the diner just a couple blocks from the high school. The taller and the shorter one are leaning against each other, heads together, fingers knotted. They turn their heads to face their partner, rubbing their noses together.

Smoke from the third teen's cigarette flows out in a ring and circles above them like a protective halo. Billie Joe stares at the close two, a smile on his face. He doesn't say a single word, even if he wants to. He wants to tell them everything that's on his mind—starting with how he's glad everybody's okay—but he also wants to leave them alone, to themselves.

He does the latter.

The two don't notice him leaving. They're looking at each other, hazel irises melting together. Frank smiles. They exchange "I love you"s before matching their lips together. It's just a small kiss—one top lip kept safely between the recipient's.

They wrap their arms around each other, falling down on their sides as they lay their heads on the concrete outside of the small diner. Once they pull apart, Frank grins once more and laughs. He looks up at the sky, and Gerard tilts his head back, looking at the blue coloring. He smiles, too, admiring the fluffy, white clouds. He takes a deep breath, turns to look at his boyfriend. He has the urge to hug him, tell him he's happy that he managed to come out alive after all the shit Bert had put him in before, but he gets distracted by the sky once more, and he doesn't really know why.

Against the blue sky and cotton ball clouds, there is a slight outline of a colorful spectrum. He glances out the corner of his eye, seeing Frank gaze up at it with awe.

He knows how much Frank likes rainbows.

Gerard decides he likes them, too.


End file.
